


Domesticity and Other Lies

by ptw30



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AkaKuroWhiteDay2016, Akakuro - Freeform, Assassin!Kagami, Best Friends KagaKuro, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Spy!Akashi, teacher!kuroko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Youzankiel.  From Saturday morning brunch to Friday night movies to anytime texts - Seijuro and Tetsuya didn't remember falling in love - they always have been. But Seijuro holds a secret, one he's kept from Tetsuya since their time in Rakuzan, and three years ago, it drove Seijuro from Tetsuya's side. Now he's back in Tokyo at a gala for his father, hunting the ones who threatened the love of his life, but Seirin's best assassin, The Tiger, isn't the only surprise guest at the gala. So is Tetsuya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. French Toast and Espionage

**Author's Note:**

> Happy AkaKuro White Day to Youzankiel! I hope you enjoy! The second half will hopefully be up in a day or two. (It's totally done. I just need to edit!)

_Then..._

Seijuro loved sunrises, but not because of the anticipation of a new day or the warm glow of the sun upon his back. He loved waking up to see Tetsuya’s gentle face, his impossibly messed bedhead, and his soft breathing through those pale lips. Usually, Seijuro didn’t have long to wait to see those eyelids flutter and then reveal the most beautiful and enchanting blue eyes Seijuro ever had the pleasure to see, and they were focused completely on him, first taking in his presence before they glanced away. A lovely red flush colored Tetsuya’s cheeks, and he looked up again to meet Seijuro’s undivided attention. 

“Morning, Sei,” Tetsuya greeted in that tender tone, and Seijuro dipped down to capture those plush lips with his own, savoring their soft feel and undeniable affection. Tetsuya always kissed back. 

When they broke, Tetsuya glanced over his shoulder at his phone and let out an infinitesimal sigh. “It’s already six-forty-five? You turned off my alarm again, didn’t you?”

“You need more sleep,” Seijuro muttered into the back of Tetsuya’s shirt when he wrapped his arms about his lover and dragged him back down to the bed. 

“Says the one who didn’t get to bed until after midnight.”

Seijuro loomed over Tetsuya, caging him in his arms and pressing gentle kisses to his jaw. “It was just a conference call. Nothing strenuous.”

One of Tetsuya’s arms wrapped about Seijuro’s neck while the opposite hand trailed through Seijuro’s short hair. “Sei-kun’s a terrible liar. My six year olds do a better job than you.”

“Hm…then maybe I should stop by your work today, get a few tips.” He pressed his lips against Tetsuya’s and didn’t let him up for air until he heard a throaty moan. “Or better yet, why don’t we call in and stay in bed all day?”

“I can’t,” and Tetsuya looked very, very torn. “I have a field trip today. And don’t you have those European representatives coming in?”

“My father can take the meeting.”

“Your father _can,_ but he will be very disappointed if he has to.” Tetsuya tentatively tested Seijuro’s weight, pushing on his shoulder. “I have to go, Sei-kun. I’m late.”

“Fine, I’ll let you go…under one condition,” he added with a very sinister smile, one that made Tetsuya blush in a way that always made his stomach tumble pleasantly. 

“I’m not doing it,” Tetsuya said, but there was little force behind his weak proclamation. 

“Then your class is going to be sorely disappointed when they can’t go on their field trip.”

Tetsuya’s hand cradled the side of Seijuro’s face, and his smile clearly said, “What am I going to do with you?”

He huffed and muttered in a very blank tone, “Oh, Akashi- _sama._ Your orders are absolute. No one dares to oppose you.”

Seijuro bit his lower lip to keep from laughing outright and kissed Tetsuya again. “You can do better than—urk!”

After hitting Seijuro in his side, Tetsuya pushed him off before standing and heading off into the bathroom, “And you will be having picked ginger and wakame in your bento today.”

Seijuro sucked in deep breaths as the pain in his torso subsided, and he simply lay supine upon the bed, watching with a tender smile as Tetsuya went about his business. Mornings like these were priceless with a quiet, surreal domesticity that Seijuro craved with a fervor he did little else. Sweet, gentle, vulnerable Tetsuya would never know just what purpose he served for Seijuro—a savior during the nights he lost himself in the dark, cruel world; a tether to reality when Seijuro walked the line between sanity and madness. 

Eventually, after Tetsuya spat into the sink, he glanced back in the mirror at Seijuro with a confused expression. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Seijuro assured, taking to his feet and gliding forward in an elegant stride to wrap his arms about Tetsuya’s waist and press a kiss to his shoulder. “I am just a very lucky man.”

Tetsuya’s cheeks were pure crimson now as he folded his fingers with Seijuro’s and muttered, “Yes, you are…Akashi-sama.”

*^*^*

_Now…_

Glitz and glamor greeted Seijuro as he stepped out of the limo at the Tokyo Opera City, dressed in a tuxedo with a red bowtie. It seemed like forever ago he’d been back to Tokyo, but in reality, it had only been three years. Those were a long, brutal, painful three years, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to abandon the mission that brought him home for the charity gala, held by his father’s company. Instead, he wanted to rush to his old penthouse, shout the name of his lover, and hopefully find Tetsuya waiting for him on the couch like he usually did when Seijuro returned late from the office. 

But the penthouse had no doubt gone cold, Tetsuya’s presence disappearing from any visages where it may have hidden after all this time. Instead, a disturbing amount of dust probably settled across the furniture and mantle, and if the maid was worth her high salary, she would have had the wherewithal to cover what was left of his belongings. 

Seijuro should care, but he didn’t. Perhaps if he finished his mission tonight, he’d return there for a night’s rest, but he’d most likely be out of the country before then. Such was the life he had chosen. 

He had many regrets, and more than once he’d wondered if he’d made the right choice. But when this mission dropped in his lap, he had to see it through, even if Tetsuya didn’t understand. But perhaps, that was for the best. Happiness wasn’t a trait for someone in his profession. 

Traveling up the red carpet, Seijuro smiled and shook hands with many faces he remembered from his youth. They praised him for his negotiating skills, reminded him of how much he looked like his mother, and offered forced smiles to charm the heir to his father’s throne, though they needn’t worry. Despite his appearance, he’d only inherit the company on paper. His father’s stringent lessons had bred him for another type of living, one a former military general introduced him to after that Winter Cup loss all those years ago. After all, basketball showcased many of the traits needed for Seijuro’s current line of work, too.

“Keep sharp,” Shirogane Eiji ordered in his ear. “I have the others on stand-by, but we don’t want to spook our target…again.”

“I am aware of the situation, Shirogane,” Seijuro uttered in a terse reply, “and if I remember correctly, it was Kotarou’s impatience that led to our enemy’s escape last time.”

“Hey!” Kotarou’s overzealous voice echoed in his ear. “It wasn’t my fault The Tiger is a scaredy cat.” 

“And your announcement over the arena;s P.A., ‘the spooky guy who likes to run guns and kill diplomats, please step forward,’ played no part?” Reo purred. 

Eikichi’s gruff voice sounded like he was eating again. “It’s because Hayama said he killed diplomats. He’s killed other guys, too, and it offended him that those victims were left out.”

“Be quiet,” Seijuro muttered as he reached the end of the red carpet and met the host, presenting the man with the deep bow he was deserved. “Hello, Father. I see you had quite the turnout this year.”

“Seijuro,” his father greeted, cold and disappointed as always. “What a surprise this is. I wasn’t expecting to see you again. Ever.”

“My apologies for disappointing you yet again.”

“Hm. There is still time to make this right.”

Seijuro came to stand next to his father and stare down the red carpet at the arriving guests. “I made my decision, Father, and I’m going good in the world.”

“You could do good here.”

“I do not see how making a profit off of people’s livelihoods and everyday necessities helps anything other than your bank account.”

“Our employees. What about them? You could protect their futures. And what about the Akashi legacy?”

What about it? Seijuro had come to care more about the legacy of his team than that of his family name. The woman he cared about was long gone, and his father never made _him_ a priority. Why would he make his father one? In fact, though he missed his middle school friends greatly, there was truly only one person whom he cared about in Tokyo enough to make him question his life choices—and Seijuro’s breath hitched in his throat. 

He must have made a noise because Reo’s worried voice filled his ear. “Sei-chan, what is it? Are you alright? Tell Reo-nee what’s wrong!”

Halfway down the red carpet, Seijuro spotted the dusting of blue hair. 

“…Tetsuya?”

*^*^*

_Then…_

Loving Tetsuya came as naturally as breathing. He wasn’t sure when he actually “fell in love,” as the phrase usually went. Rather, he felt like he’d always been in love with the phantom sixth man of their middle school and later high school basketball teams, but Seijuro remembered distinctively when he realized it. 

The Saturday had been one like every other during their high school days. They’d traveled from Kyoto to Tokyo to meet up with some of their friends, and afterwards, they’d either head back to the Rakuzan dorms or stay at the Akashi Household. They’d been walking down the street toward Seijuro’s apartment, comfortable silence between them as always, and Tetsuya simply threaded their fingers together and squeezed. He didn’t even look at Seijuro or his shocked face, though his own glowed with a vibrant tinge of pink. 

Everything in their lives came as easily as that—sharing a dorm at Rakuzan, sharing an apartment their second year of college, sporting similar rings, promising eternity to one another. They weren’t married legally, but they’d made a commitment to one each other that transcended all other bonds. 

And that led to the most basic but cherished of pleasures—evenings spent doing nothing but Seijuro reading reports and Tetsuya his students’ papers or a novel; mornings with quick bites but reaffirming caresses; and Saturday morning French toast brunches. He still marveled how adorable Tetsuya looked in his apron, given to him by his best friend Taiga (“I’m not short; I’m concentrated awesome”), dipping bread into the egg mixture, somehow sporting confectioner sugar in his hair and on his nose. 

Seijuro came into the kitchen of their shared penthouse, a “marriage gift” from his father, and licked the sugar off Tetsuya’s nose. He blushed furiously and tried to wipe the rest of the white substance, but he just added more. So Seijuro took a dish towel and helped to clean his face. 

“I wonder what your students would say if they saw you like this,” he mused, a teasing smile upon his lips. 

“Probably the same thing your employees would say if they saw you like this,” Tetsuya countered, slapping a powdered piece of toast across Seijuro’s face and coating him as well. 

Taking the dish towel again and cleaning his cheeks with deliberate swipe, Seijuro said in a measured tone, “Three…two...one…”

And Tetsuya took off, heading for the nearest door. There were times like these when Seijuro allowed his true self to shine through, and he jumped over the counter, pushed off the wall, and all but tackled Tetsuya onto the couch, arms wrapped about his lover’s torso, face buried in the top of Tetsuya’s back. 

Silent laughter shook Tetsuya’s frame, but Seijuro heard it loud and clear, just as loudly as Nigou’s barking when he danced about his owners. Seijuro heaved Tetsuya upon his lap, pressing tender kisses to his collarbone as he trapped his husband’s arms with his own. 

“Seijuro-kun’s quite strong,” Tetsuya marveled, testing Seijuro’s hold. 

Seijuro laughed as well, continuing his constant embraces. “All the better to hold you with, my dear.”

“Perhaps Seijuro-kun should let me go, so I may finish his breakfast, complete with bacon, though hopefully not from the _Three Little Pigs,_ mind you.”

“Never, Tetsuya,” Seijuro promised, arms tightening, face buried in the addictive warmth and alluring scent of his husband. “I’ll never let you go.”

He wouldn’t. Back then, Seijuro’s life still had been filled with many questions and mysteries, but he knew that one promise to be for certain. He would never let Tetsuya go. 

Of course, then the fire alarm began to wail, and the shock allowed Tetsuya to break free and run in the direction of the now burnt French toast.

*^*^*

_Now…_

“Tetsuya?” Kotarou reiterated, dismay evident in his voice. “Akashi, Tetsu’s there?”

“Oh, dear. Eikichi, Kotarou, we have to do something!” Reo’s panicked voice cried over the communication channel. 

“You don’t think we know that?” Eikichi growled, but Seijuro was too shocked to respond to them, his entire attention stolen by the stunning man walking up to him in a pressed tuxedo. His smile was more subdued than Seijuro remembered it, like it was tired or sad, and when he bowed his greeting, he managed never to lose eye contact with Seijuro. 

Those perfect, sparkling blue eyes still showed eternity, even after all these years. 

“Akashi-san, I see you’ve returned to Tokyo,” Tetsuya said, words succinct like he was saying a well-practiced speech. “I was not expecting you.”

“It was a last-minute trip, and I’ll be gone by the morning,” he promised, like that justified him not making his first stop to see Tetsuya. “But I do not understand what you are doing here.”

“I invited him, Seijuro,” his father spoke up, coming to bow briefly to Tetsuya in greeting. “I offered Tetsuya a job in our company’s daycare and kindergarten. He runs the facility in our corporate headquarters in Shinjuku, so as one of our employees, he is welcome at tonight’s gala.”

“Thank you, Masaomi-san.” Tetsuya was using his father’s first name now? “I always appreciate you including me in your affairs.”

“Yes, well, it is the least I can do for my son-in-law, though I do apologize for taking Seijuro away from you for this long.”

It was the perfect cover story. As heir to his father’s international business, he could easily fly to each destination with a corporate hub without any fear of inquiry, and if someone saw him there, so what? He simply was on business for his father. For someone who worked in the shadows, his life in the limelight allowed for easy transportation and an iron-clad story for his dark deeds. 

But it left a trail, too, a documented itinerary of where he’d been and allowed anyone—like Tetsuya—to see where he’d been. 

Seijuro sucked in a calming breath as Tetsuya spoke again. 

“He made his choice, Masaomi-san, as I have made mine.” He leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to Seijuro’s cheek. “It is good to see you, Akashi-san. If you end up staying longer than you anticipate, I’d like to catch up.”

“Seijuro, focus!” Shirogane chastised, but Seijuro couldn’t, not when Tetsuya walked a few steps away and grabbed the sleeve of Kagami Taiga. 

Even though he saw no romantic relations between them whatsoever—Seijuro’s job had trained him to read body language and the tells of an intimate relationship—he still felt his blood boil when Taiga glanced over his shoulder at Seijuro and smiled. He moved to come over to say hi—or gloat—but Tetsuya brought him back with a swift tug on his sleeve. With a fleeting wave, Taiga entered the opera house after Tetsuya. 

“Let him go,” Shirogane commanded, though the strained quality of his voice let Seijuro hear the regret he carried. “It’s the best thing you can do for him.”

Or so Seijuro had been told time and time again, but he forced his body to stay where it stood, to not follow Tetsuya and beg for forgiveness. He had made his choice years ago, even though it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. 

*^*^*

_Then…_

He was recruited during high school as were the Uncrowned Kings, though Tetsuya, the sixth man of the Rakuzan basketball team and the love of Seijuro’s life, was not. He was deemed too weak, too soft-hearted, to be of use to the Public Security Intelligence Agency as one of their Shadow Agents, but since all of Rakuzan cherished Tetsuya and his kind heart, the team agreed it was for the best. They’d rather protect Tetsuya than ever put him through the hell they experienced daily. 

Together, the Uncrowned Kings and Seijuro became more than a basketball team but a force for good. Training, missions, and homework left little time for much else, but Seijuro always made time for Tetsuya. 

Shirogane warned him against relations outside of the covert forces. Civilians, especially, were dangerous. Achilles Heels. Victims. Prey. Seijuro was not only putting their entire force at risk by his selfish actions but also the very one he loved. 

While it would have hurt to break bonds with the Miracles and their friends, he wouldn’t have survived losing Tetsuya in any capacity. So he kept him close, sheltered, protected. As they aged and went from high school students to college students to contributing members of society, Seijuro had Tetsuya followed by some of his department’s Watchers. He bribed the Surveillance Head with coffee and cookies and yaoi fantasies to get one of the super-enhanced trackers and then during one of his and Tetsuya’s intimate nights, slipped it into Tetsuya’s hip. He hacked one of the American satellites, so when the nights ran long and the days hard, he could see his lover’s face and remember what it was like to be human, so he could keep his head above the blood that threatened to drown him. 

As he became more engrossed in world politics, Seijuro and the Rakuzan Divison began traveling longer and longer—a week trip instead of an overnight one. A month instead of a week. Two months. A assignment that had once been a side project—“See what you can find on this guy,” Shirogane said, uploading the file onto their iPads—became their full-time mission. 

“The Tiger?” Eikichi repeated. “Never heard of him.”

“Suspected assassin. Supposedly he killed the two diplomats in the Ukraine last year, but they were gunrunners for Kirisaki Daichi. So we didn’t care.”

“Why do we now?” Seijuro asked, sitting at the opposite head of the clear conference table. 

Shirogane hit a button on his remote, and the high-tech screen behind him flickered to show a photo of the British prime minister. “We have reason to suspect The Tiger is now working with a group known as the Seirin Elites. You might know them as the ‘Usual Suspects.’”

Iron-Heart. Eagle-Eye. Clutch. Coach. Jack of All Trades. Silent Treatment. Girl Magnet. And now The Tiger. It was a line-up for the ages, their own proverbial Injustice League, and Seijuro felt a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He couldn’t wait to go up against these bad-ass criminals. 

And the fights were all-out battles, testing Rakuzan’s mental and physical strengths. Eikichi took bullets in his left leg and arm following a shoot-out in Berlin. London put Reo on surveillance duty following a broken collarbone. Even Seijuro suffered a broken trigger finger when he went up against The Tiger in an all-out cage match, and while he might not have been able to use his right hand for a few weeks, The Tiger hadn’t walked away from the battle. Iron-Heart had to carry him. 

Though Seirin’s unique sunglasses changed their hair color, voice, and certain facial features to keep them from being recognizable, Seijuro and most of Rakuzan could tell the Elites apart by their unique builds. After going up against them time and time again, Seijuro knew Coach to be a girl and even to be dating Clutch. She also had a relationship with Iron-Heart, though that was old news. 

But something—or rather—someone was missing. Someone was pulling the strings behind the shadows, helping Seirin when they needed it most. A well-placed shot Eagle-Eye couldn’t hit. A hack of a lock that allowed Seirin’s escape. Once, the whole team even disappeared from a Rakuzan jet—from a locked cell while being watched by Reo. 

Seijuro gave the invisible member of Seirin the codename “Phantom,” though the others held doubts he even existed. 

After all, the Seirin Elites were called “elite” for a reason and didn’t need a phantom man to fight Rakuzan gun for blade. While the Rakuzan Division stopped them from killing the Prime Minister of Britain, they failed to save a diplomat in Canada. Seirin failed in their attempt to steal a shipment of illegal weapons in New York, but they managed to take a few boxes in L.A. Rakuzan also shut them down in Hong Kong, Moscow, and South Africa. 

Eventually, they crossed that very thin line that kept their battles “thrilling.” The Seirin Elites hunted Shirogane’s own father, a legend in the covert world, a trained and battle-tested warrior, and The Tiger shredded him with his vicious claws. Rakuzan arrived only moments too late to stop the final blow but fast enough to witness Kouzou-san’s last breath. 

The mission cost Seirin, too. They had been careless and left one of their research devices at the scene, which Kouzou-san managed to hide under his battered body. 

Chihiro, Rakuzan’s technology specialist, managed to break Seirin’s security—no easy feat—and discovered the next target on their list. 

Tetsuya. 

“You have no choice, Seijuro,” Shirogane said, voice as sharp as a razor’s edge. “No amount of security will save your partner now that Seirin has marked him for death. The only way they’ll ever let him live is if they think he means nothing to you.”

“Even if I do what you ask—” Seijuro’s heart physically burned; nausea overwhelmed him. “—they’ll still think I love him. We’ve been together since high school, but I’ve loved him longer than that,” he admitted in a tight whisper. “The best thing is to bring him in, train him—”

“And put him directly in harm’s way? No. I won’t do that to an innocent. This is the best thing you can do for him. You know that.”

Seijuro did. Even after everything they’d been through—everything he put Tetsuya through that Tetsuya never knew—the kindest thing he could ever do would let his lover go. Kouzou-san had been murdered in the most painful of ways, and if Seirin managed to actually capture Tetsuya, Seijuro had no doubts they’d do the same—if not worst—to his cherished lover. 

He hit Tetsuya’s contact on his phone. 

*^*^*

_Now…_

“You’re all missing something here!” Chihiro shouted in that superior tone, immediately gaining Seijuro’s attention with the unusual desperation in his voice. “The Tiger is supposed to be here, and he knows of Kuroko’s attachment to Seijuro. Even if we tricked Seirin before, do you really think The Tiger won’t go after Tetsuya if he’s here?”

 _Shit,_ Seijuro chastised himself and raced up the remaining stairs into the opera house. As he weaved between the formally dressed crowd, he yelled, “Chihiro, do you have eyes on Tetsuya?”

A tsk of annoyance sounded in Seijuro’s ear. “No. Someone is currently blocking access to the building’s cameras. It must be Seirin.”

“Get access,” Seijuro ordered, eyes frantically running over the crowd. Where was _he_?

“Easier said than done, Akashi- _kun_ , but I’m working on it. Stand by.”

Stand by? The Seirin Elites were dangerous, and in the five seconds it would take Chihiro to hack in, they could capture Tetsuya and finish him off quicker than they did Kouzou-san. 

“Martini, shaken not stirred,” a familiar voice teased in a blank tone behind Seijuro, and despite all his training, Seijuro jumped. 

Whirling, the leader of Rakuzan let out a relieved sigh as Tetsuya held up the vodka tonic, which Seijuro took. “You still have your weak presence, I see.”

“It comes in handy from time to time,” Tetsuya said, leading Seijuro off to the side of the opera house’s bar. “Taiga-kun went to go ‘scope out’ the dinner buffet, which means I won’t see him until after security drags him away.”

Seijuro let out an honest laugh, even as Shirogane hissed in his ear, “Don’t let your guard down. The Tiger is set to be here, Seijuro. That fact hasn’t changed.”

“We still don’t know who his target is, though,” Kotarou interjected. 

Reo shouted, “Sei-chan, it could be you!”

“I still don’t have control over the cameras,” Chihiro added, “so all of Seirin must be here.”

“Or at least The Tiger and The Phantom,” muttered Seijuro, to which Tetsuya cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

Seijuro blinked and directed his focus to Tetsuya again. Those eyes seemed to get bigger and glisten brighter with every passing moment. “I see you and my father still keep in contact.”

Tetsuya shrugged and glanced down at his phone, typing with his thumb absently. “Well, yes. He and I have grown quite close since you left.”

“It was because of him I left,” Seijuro replied, though it sounded like an excuse even to his ears. 

“Sei-kun’s such a terrible liar,” Tetsuya allowed after a sip of his own drink. “My six year olds still do a better job than you.”

Foreign heads of state, international businessman, and criminal masterminds took his lies for truth, and still, Tetsuya saw right through him. He glanced down, focusing on his drink, before he dared to meet Tetsuya’s eyes again. 

Thankfully, Tetsuya didn’t seem to be seeking any answers and instead let out a sigh, glancing about the elegant opera house crowded corridors. “I was devastated when you called me that day, Sei.”

_”I don’t understand.”_

_“I don’t think I can make it any clearer, Tetsuya.”_

_The pain in Tetsuya’s voice was evident, more than five thousand miles away. “But your father didn’t say anything about extending your trip indefinitely.”_

_“He doesn’t know the contracts didn’t come through, and I’ll have to re-negotiate all the deals this branch made during the last five years.”_

_“Then…I’ll come out by you?” Tetsuya offered. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris, and—”_

_“There’ll be a lot of moving—from city to city in Europe. There won’t be any downtime for you settle and find a job.”_

_“Oh.” A pregnant pause tore Seijuro apart, and he buried his free hand in his hair as the tears stung in the corners of his eyes. “Then—where does that leave us, Sei?”_

_He said to say it, but his tongue refused to move, refused to speak—and then Chihiro, bastard Chihiro, pushed the pictures of the beaten, tortured, and shredded Kouzou-san in front Seijuro’s eyes. That found him the strength he needed to reply, “Either we break up or you wait for me.”_

_Seijuro blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that. He supposed to say, “It’s over, Tetsuya,” but even now, he couldn’t let Tetsuya go. Perhaps it was selfish and stupid, but Chihiro made sure the line was secure, so Seirin couldn’t be listening in. And so instead of breaking it off completely, Seijuro would give Tetsuya a choice. He’d give Tetsuya hope, even if it was only a spark._

_“Good-bye, Tetsuya,” he muttered and hung up the phone._

That was three years ago. 


	2. If a Cat Has Nine Lives, How Many Does a Phantom Have?

_Now..._

There was an unfathomable sadness darkening Tetsuya’s eyes, one Seijuro didn’t want to acknowledge, so he glanced away, scanning the crowd for The Tiger’s specific body type. He didn’t lie, though. Not again. “Letting you was the hardest thing I ever had to do, Tetsuya.”

“You didn’t have to do it at all, Sei.” No honorifics between them now, no barriers to hide behind. “You chose to end our relationship.”

“To protect you.”

“From what? From whom?” Tetsuya’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he continued, “Despite what you may think, I’m not an idiot.”

Seijuro’s eyes fell to Tetsuya’s scowling face. “You know I don’t work for my father.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Just like you can’t tell me why you came home from ‘business trips,’” he actually used air quotes, “with souvenirs like knife and bullet wounds. Just like you started becoming unnaturally strong and fierce in high school with training that did not come from our basketball practices.”

Seijuro’s hand reached out to cradle Tetsuya’s cheek. “You knew all the way back then—”

“—that you were lying to me. Yes, but I figured you’d tell me when you were ready, but you never were.” He glanced away, eyes glistening, face crestfallen. “Did you even miss me?”

 _Every day. Every moment,_ he wanted to reply, but it wouldn’t be fair to Testuya. Even if they defeated The Tiger and Seirin tonight, he’d made too many vindictive enemies. Tetsuya would never be safe as long as Seijuro loved him.

And Seijuro would always love Tetsuya. 

“There is no point in looking at the past and wishing things to be different. This is the cruel reality in which we live, Tetsuya, and nothing can change that. However…” He paused for a second to gather his courage and meet Tetsuya’s disarmingly vulnerable gaze again. “…I cannot smell or taste anything vanilla without thinking of you.”

Tetsuya’s cheeks brightened with an adorable blush, and he leaned forward, lips coming dangerously close to Seijuro’s, so close Seijuro could feel their heat when Tetsuya’s phone went off again. 

Chihiro cheered in Seijuro’s ear, “I’m through! I’ve got control of the cameras, and _shitshitshit!_ I found The Tiger! He’s in the Rehearsal Room fighting…the Prime Minister’s son? That makes no sense.”

“We always assumed the Prime Minister’s son was involved with some black market deals, but we couldn’t find any proof,” Shirogane interjected. 

“Perhaps Seirin has?” Seijuro replied, hand to his ear as he sought out his next move. 

“But wouldn’t Seirin be working with him?” Reo asked. “They run all the gunrunning in and out of Tokyo.”

“Sei? What is it?” Tetsuya asked, hand coming to tug on Seijuro’s sleeve. 

“Maybe Seirin doesn’t like competition,” Chihiro guessed. 

“Perhaps they’ll let us know if we ask politely,” Seijuro seized Tetsuya’s shoulders and stared straight into his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to stay by Tetsuya’s side, but nothing would keep his one-time lover protected better than finally ending Seirin’s reign of terror. “Tetsuya, stay here. Do not move from this spot until I come for you, and make absolutely sure that you stay in the eye of that security camera.”

Tetsuya followed his gaze up to the red-lit camera in the corner of the opera house corridor before taking Seijuro’s hand one last time and squeezing. “Will you come back this time?” 

That was when Seijuro did the unthinkable—he pressed his lips against Tetsuya’s in a warm, fierce, claiming embrace. Tetsuya’s glass tumbled to the red carpet as his body melted against Seijuro’s, fingers delving to Seijuro’s red mess while Seijuro held both of Tetsuya’s cheeks in a desperate hold. Everything they were—from Saturday morning brunch to Friday night movies to anytime texts—came rushing back to Seijuro full force, drowning him in a swell of regret. 

Nothing felt as good as kissing Tetsuya. Nothing felt as good as holding him and loving him. Nothing compared to the life he’d had, the lie known as domesticity. But that was all it had been. A lie, and trembling hands released Tetsuya’s flushed face. 

He never answered Tetsuya’s question, only took one last look at his unsteady, former lover with heated cheeks and dazed eyes, and took off into the packed corridor toward the entrance. 

“Chihiro, make sure to keep eyes on Tetsuya the whole time,” Seijuro ordered, his command the harshest he’d ever given, and Chihiro responded in kind, of course. 

“Yes, because ‘glorified babysitter’ was on the job description when I applied for this gig.”

“ _Chihiro_ —” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got him in the corner of my screen, typing away on his phone. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Akashi.”

*^*^*

_Then…_

Seijuro didn’t cry when he read the report. He had to read it seven times before he actually realized what it said, and then he closed the folder, sat back in his chair, and let the information sink in. After a few minutes, he stood and went to the gym, working up a furious sweat. Reo came in first, followed by Kotarou, Eikichi, and finally Chihiro, and Seijuro worked through each one and then combined, pausing only when they called for mercy. 

He gave none, pounding Eikichi over and over and over again—or trying. Though he usually could take the bigger man, this time Eikichi deflected Seijuro’s furious hits with his massive hands before finally engulfing Seijuro in a smothering embrace. Still, Seijuro didn’t cry, but he felt as if something broke in his heart. 

Last night, Tetsuya brought someone to their penthouse, and the person didn’t leave until this morning. 

*^*^*

_Now…_

Seijuro jumped up the few steps to the room where a bald guard popped a piece of pink gum and scrolled through his phone, but the guard never even saw Seijuro before a well-placed punch knocked him unconscious. Even if the guard wasn’t Seirin, no witnesses were better than any witnesses, especially civilians. 

Kicking open the backdoor, Seijuro freed his laser gun from behind his back and held it out in front of him, ready to take out the nearest enemy personnel, and there, on the stage stood the Prime Minister’s son—Haizaki Shougo, suspected member of the Fukuda Sougou Assassins. As he was missing his black jacket, blood seeped through his white dress shirt, wounds consistent with attacks from The Tiger—long gashes made from dual blades, sliced in a stringent X pattern. 

Across from him, The Tiger stood in a combat-ready stance, dressed in his usual dark shades with his black cargo pants and long-sleeved, skin-tight shirt with red and white accents. His hair was now a vibrant orange while his features were smooth and dark. Dual blades occupied his gloved hands like claws.

Seirin wasn’t the only covert organization with awesome swag. Seijuro touched his iWatch, and his tuxedo disappeared until he, too, wore a black suit. Blue and white stripes accented his shoulders and gear. 

“Help me, please!” Haizaki yelled in a desperate beckon. “He’s trying to kill me!”

The Tiger pounced. “Damn straight!”

Seijuro saw the snap of The Tiger’s muscles a moment before he moved, which was the difference between Haizaki being alive and dead. Seijuro kicked The Tiger’s wrist, sending his dagger swinging past Haizaki’s shoulder, but then The Tiger moved gracefully, just like a cat, his second arm coming forward. Seijuro countered that, too, this time with his elbow to The Tiger’s forearm and a fierce kick to The Tiger’s gut, sending him flying back into the first row of seats.

Sucking in deep inhales, Seijuro placed himself between Haizaki and The Tiger and pointed his laser gun directly at the latter. 

“You’ve come to the end of your nine lives, Tiger.”

“You’re pointing the gun at the wrong person,” The Tiger growled, pushing to his feet. “Haizaki and Fukuda Sougou need to be stopped.”

“Our fight is not with Fukuda Sougou but with Seirin and you, especially, Tiger.” Seijuro rested his finger over the trigger, ready to shoot if need be. “You hunted our family, and we’ve hunted you. Now it’s time to put you and all of Seirin in a little cage for the rest of your miserable lives.”

Reo’s worried voice blared in his ear, “We’re coming, Sei-chan! Hold on!”

“Akashi, don’t be an idiot!” The Tiger screamed. “The Fukuda Sougou Assassins copy other clans’—” 

The shift of the hair. A sound of clothes ruffling. The creak of a leg shifting weight—Seijuro spun just in time to miss the swipe of The Tiger’s Claw from Haizaki.

“—moves.”

“Ehhh? Well, you’re going to be more fun than I thought.” With a chilling laugh, Haizaki lunged again, swiping at Seijuro in a fury of movement and violence until The Tiger stepped in, slashing his blade against Haizaki’s so fast that sparks flew off the metal.

Haizaki recovered quicker, stabbing The Tiger in the forearm. The assassin let out a shrill cry, but Haizaki kept him there with a twist of the knife. With a thrust of his own arm, The Tiger freed himself, but the Fukuda Sougou Assassin responded quickly with an elbow to The Tiger’s face, breaking his sunglasses. Instead of orange hair, The Tiger sported red, and instead of the appearance of middle aged American, he now was distinctively Japanese and young, only in his mid-twenties—and familiar. 

“Taiga…?” 

Taiga was Tetsuya’s best friend, a power forward from Tokyo Tetsuya befriended that first Winter Cup. They were inseparable, almost as much of Seijuro and Tetsuya themselves. Once he and Tetsuya returned to Tokyo for college, Taiga came over almost daily for breakfast or snacks or just to hang out. How could Taiga, who was nothing more than a big softie trapped in a bigger body, be a ruthless assassin?

Unless…Taiga said Fukuda Sougou copied moves. Did they kill Kouzou-san and frame Seirin? Then all this time, it wasn’t Seirin after Tetsuya but Fukuda Sougou?

Haizaki’s smile demonized again as he glanced between Seijuro and Taiga. “Should I be flattered that both of you decided to keep me company? I wonder who is keeping your helpless teacher occupied. Perhaps Mochizuki. Maybe Ishida. Yeah, probably Ishida. He likes the helpless ones.”

“Bastard!” Taiga shouted, swiping toward Haizaki who just laughed and clanged his dagger against Taiga’s blade. 

“We don’t have time for this.” Seijuro leveled his gun at the fighting duo but couldn’t get a clear shot. 

“Go save Tetsuya!” Taiga yelled, snatched Haizaki’s arm when he sliced, and gave it a sharp twist. The crack reverberated across the silent room, even if Haizaki did nothing more than let out a soft grunt. “I’ll keep this creep occupied.”

Getting aid from The Tiger? Life continuously surprised Seijuro, but did he trust Taiga? No matter what he thought of The Tiger, he knew Taiga would never put Tetsuya in harm’s way. They both cared deeply, if differently, about their friend, so Seijuro jumped off the stage and onto the first row of seats, flipping over row after row as he rushed from the room. 

Seijuro rounded the bend, noticing the absent guard, and cursed under his breath before hitting on his comm. “Everyone, converge on Tetsuya now! Chihiro, do you have eyes on him?”

“Ugh, yeah. He’s still on his phone. I’ve got him right—”

“Are you sure!”

“Yeah, he’s just—oh, shit! The feed’s on a loop. Give me two seconds—”

“Tetsuya doesn’t have two seconds!”

*^*^*  
_Then…_

Tetsuya would never know he’d been on Japanese soil during those three years, but Seijuro only stayed long enough to meet with a Diet council and grab an authentic ramen lunch before leaving. But he made one unscheduled stop at a school, standing across the street and watching as Tetsuya took a chain of children—each holding hands with the person before and after them, with an aide bringing up the rear—to a nearby bank for an outing. 

Seijuro found Tetsuya’s two guards from the Surveillance Team, though he’d been reaching out to the head today to demand new ones. For after Tetsuya held the door, watching the kids closely, Seijuro slipped behind him, taking in a deep inhale of Tetsuya’s unique scent of vanilla milkshakes and cheeseburgers, and slipped something in Tetsuya’s pocket. 

On the plane later that afternoon, he wondered what Tetsuya’s face looked like when he found the keychain of the Eiffel Tower his pocket. 

*^*^*

_Now..._

Disturbing laughter echoed in the empty hall as the show had already begun, and only a few staff members remained in the back corridor. If Tetsuya went inside, then he’d be lost within the sea of shadows and people, but Seijuro miscalculated. He told Tetsuya not to leave the sight of the camera, making him an easy target for Fukuda Sougou.

And when he rounded the bend, Tetsuya was missing. 

“Chihiro, here’s not here!”

“Already on it, Akashi- _kun._ ” Now was not the time to be cheeky, but Seijuro chose not to chastise and distract Chihiro. 

“Pulling up his tracking info—GOT HIM! Straight ahead thirty paces, then down the hall. I’ll direct you from there.”

The journey took an eternity, and horrible, unforgivable scenarios ran through Seijuro’s mind. His feet felt like lead, and Chihiro’s directives never came fast enough. The dramatic opera music sang through the corridors with heavy notes of death, and when Seijuro finally kicked open the doors to one of the private rooms backstage, his heart thundered in his chest. 

“TETSUYA!”

Tetsuya looked up from where he knelt on the ground, Mochizuki holding a laser gun to his head, Ishida sporting a dagger before him. Surprise enveloped Tetsuya’s usually expressionless face, but Ishida lunged at Seijuro, stealing his attention. Seijuro raised his gun but reacted too slow, Ishida too close with his dagger inches from Seijuro’s forearm when a single laser blast tore through Ishida’s chest. The Fukuda Sougou Assassin slammed hard to the ground, his back searing where the laser had burned through. Behind his smoking body stood Tetsuya, expression as cold as Seijuro had ever seen it, gun held callously in his dominant hand. 

Mochizuki sat slumped over in the corner, a similar wound in his stomach. 

“Tsk. Sei-kun wouldn’t survive without me.” Tetsuya clicked a Bluetooth to his ear and muttered, “Threat neutralized. Clean up needed.”

Seijuro wasn’t sure what he saw, only that he couldn’t quite comprehend the scene with Tetsuya—sweet, gentle Tetsuya—standing over two dead bodies with hardly a hair out of place, his eyes still as clear as the summer sky. He walked forward to shut the door behind Seijuro—only to be stopped by the Rakuzan Division’s combat crew, Kotarou, Eikichi, and Reo. 

“Sei-chan!” Reo called, wrapping Seijuro in a startling tight embrace. Tetsuya’s eyes flamed for a moment, but then the fire extinguished as Reo took one glance at him and then flung himself forward again, scooping Tetsuya up in an equally warm embrace. 

Even though they hadn’t seen each other in three years, the Rakuzan Division were Tetsuya’s friends in high school, and he was beloved by them just as much as Seijuro. 

“Tet-chan! Are you alright?” Reo fussed. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did the big, bad men harm you at all?”

Tetsuya laughed, that kind-hearted sound again, and he patted Reo’s arm tenderly. “I’m fine, Reo-nee. I can take myself—“

“Since when?” Kotarou cried. “You can’t even walk and chew gum by yourself!”

“You shouldn’t have gone against Fukuda Sougou by yourself, Kuroko,” Eikichi grunted. He, too, had been nervous, Seijuro could tell by the shuddering sigh he took. “They’re dangerous.”

“But I wasn’t alone.” Tetsuya cocked his head to side, looking too much like Nigou for Seijuro’s liking—or perhaps Nigou looked like Tetsuya. “I had Taiga-kun.”

Taiga entered the room then, muttering under his breath, “I’m always cleaning up your messes. Would it have killed you to maybe finish them off outside? Or at least near an emergency exit? The closest one is at least a hundred feet away.”

“Perhaps if Taiga-kun did his job, then I wouldn’t have to,” Tetsuya said, ruffling Taiga’s hair as he bent down to gather the first dead body on his back. 

“You were to supposed to keep Seijuro occupied, _and_ you failed to keep the cameras from Rakuzan’s prying eyes.”

“That was you!” Chihiro sounded so loudly through the Rakuzan ear mics that every member winced, but Tetsuya was laughing silently.

Over Tetsuya’s shoulder, Seijuro watched as the Seirin tech sent Chihiro a face with its tongue sticking out before pocketing his phone with a heavy sigh. 

“Do I always point out your mistakes on a job, Taiga-kun?”

“All the freakin’ time! You’re a pain in the ass.” 

“So harsh, Taiga-kun, especially since I thought Daiki-kun was a pain in your—”

“Oh, the crude things the Seirin Elites say!” Reo bemoaned, rushing forward to cover Seijuro’s ears.

Though tense laughter overtook the team, Seijuro stared at the man he once believed to be a gentle, kind-hearted being who wouldn’t know how to handle a gun if the situation ever occurred. Instead, the hand that carded through kindergarten students’ hair also pulled the trigger without a hint of hesitation. 

Tetsuya hadn’t been on Fukuda Sougou’s list because of Seijuro. Fukuda Sougou had wanted to start a war by killing Kouzou-san of Rakuzan and Tetsuya of Seirin, and framing the opposite clans. 

Tetsuya was The Phantom. 

“How did this happen, Tetsuya?” _When did I lose you?_

“Sei,” Tetsuya muttered, coming up to clutch his hand. A wordless apology glistened in his eyes before this expression hardened. “This is all your fault.” 

That was unexpected. 

“I fail to see how,” Seijuro combated, tugging his hand from Tetsuya’s encouraging hold. 

“You should have brought me into your division back in high school instead of lying to me for years, then maybe I wouldn’t be a highly-trained covert operative working for a quasi-military organization making sure authorized military organizations don’t step over the line. Instead, you treated me as a damsel-in-distress, and I am not a damsel-in-distress.” He started out the door behind Taiga, who heaved the second body into his arms. “And by the way, it is also your fault that I didn’t complete my task today. While I was supposed to distract you, you kept distracting me. Very rude, Sei-kun.” 

He slammed the door shut behind him. 

*^*^*

_Then…_

“He doesn’t deserve anything, except maybe coal.”

Tetsuya laughed, short and forced as if he humored Seijuro. White clouds formed in front of his face when he spoke, “He’s your father, Sei-kun. He deserves a Christmas present.”

“He doesn’t even celebrate the holiday.”

“But we do.” They walked through the snow-glazed park, the lights of the season shimmering upon the pure white canvass. Tetsuya held loosely onto Nigou’s leash as he danced about their legs. “You should try to incorporate him in kind.”

“Like you do your parents?” 

The zinger hit its target, briefly forcing Tetsuya to forfeit, but then he surprised Seijuro with a tug upon his arm. “For your complaining, your father was a part of your life. My parents only made occasional guest appearances.”

He hadn’t meant to cause _that_ look upon Tetsuya’s face—a melancholy frown that all but closed off his expression and left him completely crushed. Tetsuya’s parents hadn’t called in _years,_ Seijuro knew, while they had dinner with his father at least once a week. And perhaps his father was a bastard in every sense of the world, but he still had his secretary send them a text if they were five minutes late. 

Sighing, Seijuro ducked his head to capture Tetsuya’s lips in a tender, thorough apology. When they broke, he sighed against Tetsuya’s warm forehead. “If it pleases you, you may buy him a pair of gloves or something equally mundane.”

Tetsuya’s lips lifted immediately, and Seijuro knew he’d been tricked. “Good because you got him a framed picture of him, you, and me at that last charity function. You both are smiling—or as close as your father gets—and I think he’ll like it. It’ll go great next to that one of you, your mother, and him. Side-by-side family portraits—past and present. As a back-up, though, I’ll bring the coal I got you.”

Tetsuya was the only who could beat Seijuro at shogi, even though Tetsuya knew nothing of the game. “I may have to start you calling _Kuroko-sama_ if you keep this up.”

“It’s all right, _Akashi-sama,_ ” Tetsuya teased, once more resuming their walk. “Your orders are absolute. No one dares to oppose you.”

Seijuro dragged the laughing Tetsuya into the powdery snow.

*^*^*

_Now…_

Seijuro could have asked Chihiro to pull up Tetsuya’s tracking data to find him, but Seijuro doubted Tetsuya would want to see him. He lied to his best friend and lover for years, and was that why Tetsuya joined Seirin? To find him? Or to get back at him? Maybe to even protect himself? 

Sighing, Seijuro entered his old building’s lobby and greeted the bowing concierge absentmindedly. He probably should have spoken more to him—after all, the man did remember him after three years—but Seijuro was exhausted beyond belief. Taiga turned over a beaten and bloody Haizaki to them, who would probably spend the rest of his miserable existence in a hole somewhere. After processing the bastard and filing an official report with the team—on which they omitted The Phantom and The Tiger’s identities but officially ended the hunt for the Seirin Elites—Seijuro declined Reo’s offer to spend the night at the team’s hotel suite and instead decided to wander the city. 

After he took in the sights of his youth, his feet led him back to Shinjuku and his and Tetsuya’s old penthouse. He knew his father kept the place, and he wondered what it looked like now. Maybe he would fall asleep on Tetsuya’s side of the bed. Would it still smell like him after all these years?

He vaguely wondered where Tetsuya had moved, but he hadn’t read the reports on Tetsuya in two years, not since Tetsuya brought his first date home. The reports kept coming, and just their presence told Seijuro Tetsuya was alive. That was all Seijuro needed to know.

Seijuro opened the door and entered the foyer, only to stop at the pair of fairly new sneakers. The nearby entrance table was clean of the dust he thought he find, and a dull light of what Seijuro surmised to be a computer screen came from down the hall as did the recognizable sound of typing. 

Keeping his boots on, Seijuro brought out his gun and stepped down the hall, his footfalls silent as he saw the den door open a crack, emitting the blue glow. 

When he widened the door, Seijuro noticed the fortress of computers on multiple L-shaped desks, creating a quasi-square in the corner of the room. Screens of different sizes and shapes attached to multiple systems—Apple and PCs and even tablets—radiated the only light in the rather elegant room with a brick accent wall, a few comfortable couches, and a hardwood floor.

A mop of blue hair floated inside the fortress, sliding around in an office chair from computer to computer, and Seijuro couldn’t get a clear look at the person before a knife—a claw like The Tiger’s—zinged the door frame near Seijuro chest. He kept his gun trained on the person when he finally stood, now in a Rakuzan basketball club T-shirt, Adidas pants, and elegant glasses.

Nigou rushed from around the desk to prance about Seijuro’s tense legs, and though Seijuro still kept his gun trained on the figure, he broke away one hand to let Nigou lick. 

“Sei?” Tetsuya called. “I thought you were leaving the country after the mission.”

Slowly, Seijuro lowered his weapon. “We’re not moving out until tomorrow. Tetsuya, why are you here?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? I work from home on missions,” he said with an absent shrug before grabbing a fistful of his shirt on his hip. “After you tagged me, I couldn’t really go on international missions without you knowing, so I became Seirin’s digital support.”

Tetsuya had changed so drastically—or perhaps not at all, and Seijuro just never knew this side of his lover. After all, Tetsuya continuously surprised him, and Seijuro enjoyed exploring all the facets that made up Tetsuya, like a great puzzle that was created just for him to solve. 

But the most important facts remained. On the desk sat an Eiffel Tower keychain. The penthouse still smelled of vanilla and French toast, and standing before him was his lover, still looking at him if the world revolved around Seijuro. And for Tetsuya to willingly descend into this world of shadows and danger, Seijuro surmised that was the case. Still…

“The Surveillance Team saw you bring home men. _Many._ ” He failed to keep the menacing rage from his voice. 

Tetsuya came around the desk, smiling as sheepishly as he ever did. “Cover stories for when Seirin went on a mission. It was very disappointing, though. All my dates fell asleep on the living room couch after drinking that very potent sake your father enjoys.”

“You drugged them.”

“Such harsh wording, Sei. I tucked them in afterwards.”

“And the guns? Seirin doesn’t really run them, do they?”

Tetsuya pulled out one from behind his back, flipping over his palm. “We’re not funded like Rakuzan. Our merchandise might have fallen off of the back of a truck…or twelve.” He stopped when they stood less than two feet apart, once more placing the gun behind his back and reaching out to clasp Seijuro’s hands in his. “You said we could either break up, or I could wait for you.” He leaned forward, inches away from Seijuro’s mouth. “I waited.”

Seijuro fused their mouths together as a surge of unbelievable relief mixed with overwhelming joy, and he all but collapsed in Tetsuya’s arms. The laser gun thudded to the floor as his hands began roaming the skin he once more owned, dusting kisses across Tetsuya’s jaw and down the smooth column of his neck. Likewise, he thoroughly enjoyed Tetsuya untucking his shirt and seeking his own warmth, hands unbuttoning his pants to pull their hips together—until something cold pressed against his own warm skin. 

The sudden shot from an injection gun drew Seijuro back a few feet, hand going down to his hurt area when Tetsuya pulled out his phone to show the GPS app, signaling Akashi’s tracker. 

“I want you where I can see you.”

Seijuro could relate. He stepped forward again, enjoying the disheveled hair, reddened lips, and askew glasses of his lover. Quite a delectable sight. “Yes, Kuroko-sama.”

*^*^*

_Then…_

Seijuro came into their Rakuzan dorm room late, General Shirogane’s words still replaying in his head. 

“I’m not asking you to throw away any chance of a normal existence for your country. I’m asking you to do so for those you love because it is them you will be saving,” the general had said only a few hours earlier, as he spoke to the five basketball players in what would be the first and only necessary recruiting meeting. “The very people who have no idea such an organization like ours exists. You’ll become a shadow of yourself, lingering on the outskirts of what normal people call reality. You’ll step into the light very few times, stop the darkness that entered society from consuming its light, and then return to the darkness where you live.”

Tetsuya shifted, drawing Seijuro’s attention to the bottom bunk— _his_ bunk—where Tetsuya currently lay, wrapped in Seijuro’s sweatshirt. 

“Don’t rush into your decision. Truly think of what you’re sacrificing,” Shirogane warned. “You don’t understand now, but one day, you’ll regret this decision. You’ll see what you could have had and wish for it with everything you are. And no matter what you do, you won’t be able to get it.”

“Sei-kun?” Tetsuya beckoned in a tired whisper, stirring and lifting a calloused hand toward his boyfriend. “Everything all right?”

It wouldn’t be. Never again because the next day, Seijuro would agree with the other members of the Rakuzan team to accept General Shirogane’s request and become covert operatives for the PSIA. They’d train every night for almost three years before actually heading to the field, and then they would go on international missions of national importance and stop the dregs of society from the destroying the good within it.

Like Tetsuya. He would do anything to protect Tetsuya, the brightest light in his world. 

But for tonight, he basked in the last few strands of light, meeting Tetsuya’s request and coming to lay by his side, arms curling about Tetsuya’s waist to hold him close. Tetsuya folded his fingers with Seijuro and let out a contented sigh. 

“It’s all right, Sei,” Tetsuya said. Even on the verge of sleep, he realized Seijuro hadn’t answered his questions. “You’re here with me.”

“I might not be one day,” Seijuro muttered, exhausted beyond belief.

“I’m always with Sei-kun.” He heard the smile in Tetsuya’s voice. “He wouldn’t survive without me.” 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy White Day, Youzankiel!


End file.
